


Deserving

by Leo_Our_Queen



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics), Justice League - All Media Types, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, Eating Disorders, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Hurt Bruce Wayne, Hurt Clark Kent, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Protective Bruce Wayne, Recovery, Requited Unrequited Love, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-29
Updated: 2019-08-29
Packaged: 2020-09-29 15:07:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20438036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leo_Our_Queen/pseuds/Leo_Our_Queen
Summary: The Man of Steel is not as perfect as he appears- he's always been broken inside and the only one that notices is the Dark Knight, the Batman, Gotham’s most desired billionaire. Clark desperately believes he doesn't deserve any support that is offered,  but Bruce is determined to be there for him every step of the way and show him exactly why he's deserving.Between their assumed unrequited romantic feelings and their superhero duties, both of them have to tackle the road to recovery.





	1. The Reasons Why

**Author's Note:**

> I want to thank my lovely and amazing beta [Ezra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/seitentaisei) because they really helped me out with this fic and I can't thank them enough.
> 
> I also want to warn anyone that this fic does deal with disordered eating so if anyone is easily triggered, just please be cautious.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Like a domino effect, multiple experiences growing up has to lead to Clark's greatest struggle and most morbid secret.

Clark didn't like eating.

In fact, Clark absolutely hated it.

The Kryptonian went out of his way to avoid consuming any form of nourishment and has been doing the tedious task religiously for years.

"Good morning Smallville! I got you a chicken biscuit."

Clark looked up from his computer in time to see Lois drop a fast food bag in front of him. The smell nauseating him and making his stomach clench.

"Thanks Lo, but you didn't have to do that. I actually already ate," He lied.

"I know, but I just wanted to make sure. Your fridge is always empty so just save it for later."

"Uh yeah, sure thing. Thanks again for thinking of me." He gave a small smile.

She rolled her eyes at his kindness but gave him a playful shove before turning and walking towards her own space to work. Clark watched her walk away before taking the bag and throwing it in his personal trash bin under his desk. He tried to tell her to stop wasting money on food for him, but she always insisted. In the beginning his conscious was bothered that she didn't know he was throwing it away. But now Clark was more agitated that his friend wouldn't even bother to listen.

He did not like eating but he wasn't always like this; not bothering with food or throwing it out when he had it. When Clark was a young boy he loved food. Dinner was always a meal he looked forward to. Everything was always homemade, and his ma's apple pie was his favorite, he even learned her recipe to make it by hand himself. But when he got older all of that changed, the recession hit his parents hard when he was in his teens. Running the farm caused more money to go out than come in, that caused his parents to sink deeper and deeper in debt. Debt meant there wasn't much money to spend, even on basic necessities. There were multiple times when his parents went to bed hungry just so he could have food on his plate. Clark had learned by that time due to the sun's radiation and his Kryptonian biology he didn't even need to eat. But his parents still sacrificed their own meals for their son.

_"Please just have some of my corn." Young Clark would insist. _

_"We need you to finish your corn son. Finish all your food. We'll be fine." His pa would always say. _

_"I don't need to eat it and y'all know that!" _

_"Of course you do. You're a growing boy, and they always finish their food." His ma would give him a sad smile. _

Clark no longer looked forward to dinner, pure guilt completely defiled his one favorite meal of the day.

There were instances when he volunteered with his ma and pa with the local church to help serve food to the needy. The only money they had was through donations, which wasn't a lot. The little money that was donated didn't buy gourmet meals and tasty food but instead more bland and cheap food that he served to people with no option of a genuinely good meal like he did at home.

"_This food is slop. They shouldn't have to eat this!" He would say after the last plate was served. _

_"This is all the church can afford hun." His ma tried to defend. _ _"Just makes you more grateful of what you have at home." _

Clark no longer loved food, he didn't feel grateful at all. Blame had officially rid him of any appetite.

By his early twenties he was starting to branch out on heroism. He didn't tackle crime mobs just yet, but to start small he stopped robbers. His world turned topside when he stopped a single father robbing a convenience store of food for his family. Clark had paid for the father's groceries as the man gave him tearful gratitude. But after that day, Clark felt like a greedy monster. He was eating food that he didn't need to when there were others out there starving.

_"Thank you! Thank you so much! I can't thank you enough." The young father kept bowing his head in gratitude. _

_"It's no problem at all." He said with his hands up. "Um, you know there's a lot of agencies in place to-" _

_"I know." The father interrupted. "But they can only do but so much." _

Clark no longer wanted to eat, self-hate taken over any resolve to do so.

Over the years he just simply stopped eating: that of course did cause major concern from his parents and friends. So he would do little things to make sure he didn't have to eat or cause worry to the people he loved. At dinner Clark would cut up his food into small pieces while carrying a conversation to create the illusion of eating. He would take a bite but spit it right out in his solid colored cup while pretending to drink. On desperate occasions, he even shove food in his pockets and empty them out later.

No one knew he did this.

* * *

When lunch came around he tried to grab his bag and run out before Lois could find him and ask the question he hated more than anything.

"Hey! Want to do lunch since you haven't bought anything?"

Clark wasn't quick enough; he turned to see Lois standing in front of him with her signature smirk and hands on her hips.

"Oh man I totally would but I have nothing but lint in my pocket. I'm just going to run home and grab something."

"I can pay for you Mr. Broke." She chuckled, "Let's go, I've been craving pasta like you wouldn't believe."

"Lo, no way. I can't just let you pay for me."

"It's no problem Smallville, make it up to me later now come on!" She grabbed his hand and tugged.

"I just feel too bad. Why don't you go ahead or I'll just come and not eat?"

"Stop being weird. Now let's go and you're going to order something." She replied still tugging at him.

Clark was now officially getting irritated. "I rather not-."

"Clark." She gave him a crossed look with her brow arched high. "What's the problem? Just pay me back later."

Clark internally growled, completely irritated and honestly angry. But he knew he had no choice lest she became increasingly suspicious of him. Lois was a reporter for a reason, and she was great at her job of deductions.

"Alright." He breathed out.

So there he sat in the closest Italian restaurant, Lois ordering a heavy plate of spaghetti while Clark had been forced to order a slice of lasagna. Lois refused to believe a man of his size wanted just a salad.

When the plate was placed in front of him by their burnette waitress, he wanted the floor to just open up and swallow him. Clark looked up and watched Lois happily devour her spaghetti and moan around each bite as if she was in ecstasy. 

Clark wanted to throw up.

"You really didn't have to pay for this. Or insist on me ordering something so damn heavy." He grumbled.

"Oh hush." She replied with a mouthful. She swallowed her bite and continued, "I knew you were trying to order the cheapest thing on the menu so I just put a stop to it."

_That wasn't it._ He thought.

Clark looked back down at his plate, took a deep breath and grabbed his knife and fork. With practiced ease, he started cutting the large slice into small pieces.

"How's the that trail you were following?" He asked while cutting another small slice, pushing it down with his fork and shoving it to the corner of his plate.

"It was totally shit. Turns out the mob boss wasn't even the right guy."

Clark brought the fork with a small piece of lasagna to his mouth, "I thought you received a tip though. Was it a lie?" He asked while putting the same piece back down to the plate and in the corner.

"Yes! Can you believe it? I was so pissed." He started started cutting the slice again.

"That's crazy Lois, I hate that happened." He pushed the piece he cut in the corner.

"It's whatever though."

He brought the fork up to his mouth again. "How did Perry react?" Clark asked before the bite made it into his mouth. He put the fork back down and pushed the piece in the corner and started cutting again.

"Oh my God, he was absolutely livid."

Clark continued to shred apart his lasagna for the remainder of lunch. He would talk before taking a bit of food to his lips then putting it back down, creating the illusion of eating. When the waitress arrived, Clark covered the plate with balled napkins he spit food in when he felt Lois was catching on to what he was doing.

When he was finally sitting back at his desk, the country boy took a deep breath of relief that lunch was over and he didn't have to eat anymore.

"Hey CK!"

Clark wanted to die.

"Hey Jimmy what's going on?"

"We're all going out to dinner after work! You coming?"

The Kryptonian **really** wanted to die.

* * *

Evading after work dinner with an emergency in Mexico he was more than happy to run off to, he was walking up the stairs to his apartment unit.

_Please just let me finally go to sleep._ He thought.

"Clark honey!"

He took a deep inhale before turning around and seeing his elderly neighbor make her way up the stairs to reach him, a plate in her wrinkled hands covered in plastic wrap.

"Hi Ms. Lewis, you need any help?" He rushed down the stairs to her.

"Oh no deary, I know you're on your way in but I'm glad I caught you. How was work, love?"

"It was just the usual, do you need anything ma'am? Is your dishwasher running okay?" Clark asked the widow.

"I just wanted to give you some dinner." She shoved the plastic covered plate in his hands.

"You didn't have to do-"

"It's lasagna! I made it completely homemade. It's the least I can do since you helped me with my dishwasher." She interrupted.

"Thank you so much Ms. Lewis, but you really didn't have to-"

"Make sure you eat it all up!" She gave his cheek a hard pinch before she slowly made her way down the stairs, insisting she didn't need help when Clark grabbed for her arm.

After going inside his apartment, Clark started to uncover the plastic wrapping to see 3 large slices of homemade lasagna topped heavily with cheese.

_The world really hates me huh? _

He took a fork from the drawer and made his way to the trash can and scraped the food inside. He washed the plate and placed it on the counter and mentally reminded himself to return it to his neighbor later. His phone rang after he grabbed a water bottle from his empty fridge.

"Hello?" He answered.

"Hi baby!" The cheery voice greeted.

"Hey ma." He uncapped his water bottle and took a big swig as he plopped on the worn couch.

"I just wanted to check on my baby bear."

"Please ma, you don't have to call me that and I'm fine."

"Nonsense! You're always going to be my baby bear. Did you eat dinner yet?"

"I'm eating now." He lied once more as he took another swig of his bottled water.

"Good! Tomorrow I'm making lasagna completely homemade. You're going to come down right baby?"

Clark internally groaned. "Of course ma. You know I love anything homemade."

"Great! I'll even bake your favorite apple pie."

He almost groaned out loud.

"Bring Lois too!" Martha added.

Clark flopped over and landed facedown in the cushion.

It was more difficult to hide eating from Lois than his own mother. His redheaded friend always made comments regarding the food on his plate.

"Yeah ma, I'll see if she can."

"Alright honey. I can hear the dogs gettin' into something so I gotta go but I'll see you tomorrow. Love you!" She hung up before he could reply back.

"Love you too." He answered to no one, face still deep in the couch cushion.

Clark was already dreading dinner with his mother and Lois tomorrow. That means he would have to improvise and brainstorm different ways to avoid putting any form of food in his mouth.

Clark **really** hated eating and while he knew what an eating disorder was, he genuinely felt he didn't have one. Clark was sure he was okay, because he doesn't need to consume food or take in nourishment. He doesn't need any kind of nutrition or sustenance, and he's not hurting himself. Him not eating is not lethal; it's not bad if it's not harmful right? So there's no reason for anyone to know and he was absolutely convinced with himself that no one would notice or even care.

Clark started to slowly rise up and make his way to bed, dread sitting heavy in the pit of stomach for the new upcoming day.

_Fuck._


	2. Revealing Your Lies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce notices something wrong with Clark and is determined to find out what's going on with him. Finding out the truth is about to be way more than he bargained for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank the simply amazing [Ezra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/seitentaisei) because they have helped me so much throughout this and I appreciate them extremely.

Bruce has been friends with Clark for years, but he would be lying if he said he always liked the alien. In the beginning he downright hated Clark; then over time they fallen into a steady relationship of teammates, to acquaintances, and finally into best friends.

Saving each other's lives constantly tends to do that to a pair. 

Bruce even confirmed internally he's fallen in love with the alien farm boy and never mentioned those feelings out loud.

Over those years Bruce has gotten to learn a lot about the Kryptonian; he prides himself for knowing Clark inside and out so much that he can recognize whenever there's an issue with his friend. Because of that knowledge, he knows without a doubt there is something off with Clark. 

Bruce didn't catch on until his feelings started to surface, but he noticed that Clark was extremely uncomfortable around food. When Bruce started inviting the reporter over for dinner in attempts to grow closer, Clark would have every excuse possible so they couldn't dine together.

_ "I'm sorry Bruce there's an emergency in Australia!" _

_ "Oh I can't tonight, I promised my mom I visit her." _

_ "Tell Alfred I'm so sorry, I can hear a dog stuck in a wall!" _

Clark was a damn awful liar. 

There's a dog stuck in a wall? Really?

But Bruce loved his alien and went along with every fib he told, figuring Clark felt uncomfortable in the manor itself, which is why he never went upstairs or past the cave. Bruce knew his wealth and his home could be intimidating and make others feel awkward, so the elite never pursued Clark in fear of making him uneasy.

Then Bruce noticed it's not only the manor where Clark avoided get together meals. After a successful mission and the league decided on a celebratory meal, Superman would find a way to opt out. The times when Diana baked and brought a simple plate of cookies for everyone, Superman would never touch it. Ollie from time to time would treat everyone with a platter of some finger foods at league meetings, but Superman would stay away completely. Even when Barry shoved in Superman's hand a small sandwich, dessert, or simple potato chip, Superman would hold it his hand and bring it to his lips but never actually take a bite. Bruce thought it was the strangest thing in the beginning as he watched the hero go for a bite but never follow through and become distracted with talking. Eventually it would disappear from his hand; but when Bruce found untouched food covered by napkins in the waste bin, he knew there was a problem.

Clark has issues with food.

That small yet loaded piece of information made Bruce deeply concerned for his unrequited love.

_ Anorexia nervosa? _ Bruce thought at first. _ No, this is Clark. He wouldn't. _

Bruce was determined to find out what was going on.

* * *

After the meeting, Bruce waited when the room cleared and the last of the league members left to approach Clark. He cornered the red and blue hero so he couldn't run away.

"Come over for dinner tonight?" Bruce asked straightaway.

He watched Clark's shoulders stiffen slightly at the word 'dinner'. The detective wouldn't have caught the small tell if he wasn't actively looking for some signs of Clark's unease.

"I don't think I can tonight; last run in with Luthor left me pretty drained," Clark lied. "I almost didn't even make it to the meeting."

Bruce's eye twitched. _ You're an awful liar Clark. _

He pressed on. "Just for dinner, you can even rest on the solar bed if you need to."

"I already ate before the meeting Bruce. I really don't want to impose."

"You could never impose Clark. You know this."

Clark's eyes widened at his name being addressed. Bruce always had a strict no name policy when it comes to being in uniform, so he knew that he was serious in their conversation.

"Bruce…"

"Please? Everyone's been waiting for you to come over for some time now."

Bruce knew it was a low blow, but he refused to take no for an answer. 

Now Clark's eyebrows shot up at hearing his crush beg. _ Does he really want me over? _

Any other opportunity Clark would jump at the chance to spend time with Bruce. Simply being in the company of him made his heart race, which is why Clark loved spending hours upon hours in the cave with Bruce just talking about anything or nothing at all.

The Kryptonian was head over heels for the damn Batman and did his best to keep his feelings underneath and professional, even though he undeniably made time for any chance to be with Bruce.

But not like this. Anything but this.

"I'm not sure-"

"Come on. You never had a chance to eat with us, and I know you're not busy."

"I really would love to but-"

"Then what's stopping you?" Bruce interrupted.

Clark was at a standstill-- he had no more excuses and no more lies. He smiled and gave a nervous chuckle.

"Alright you got me. I'll meet you there."

He watched the Batman give a nod and turn to glide out the room, cape flapping behind him towards the door. The second he saw the sliding doors close he slammed his forehead on the wall and just leaned there, trying to control his breathing.

_ Get it together! _

But the farm boy was too panicked to even control the trembling in his hands. He wanted to spend time with Bruce, but how was he going to hide eating?

_ I am so utterly screwed. _

* * *

Shortly after meeting Bruce and changing in the cave, the pair were making their way to the dining area.

"So what's Alfred cooked up for tonight?" Clark asked to make conversation.

"Lasagna."

_ You got to be _ ** _fucking_ ** _ kidding me. _

"Awesome!" Clark was internally screaming along the entire way.

"How are you feeling?"

"What?"

"Luthor." Bruce said. "You said you weren't feeling well after him. What happened?"

Clark forgot he told that lie to get out of the whole situation he was in.

"Oh! Yeah, I'm feeling a little better. The flying helped, it was just kryptonite. You know how that usually goes."

"Hmm."

When they arrived at the table, Clark saw everyone already there sitting. He mentally sighed in relief; the more people there, the easier for him to hide his food.

"Hey Clark!" Dick greeted, leaned back in his chair.

Tim gave a small wave but stayed glued to the screen of his phone, Jason gave a tilt of his head, and Damian looked up but didn't bother with a greeting. 

"Clark is joining us for dinner," Bruce said to his boys around the table, he then nodded towards Alfred so he could prepare for the extra guest.

"Hey y'all," Clark spoke as he took a seat, his country twang coming out in the comfortable environment.

He watched Alfred bring out the large pan from the kitchen, he smelled the garlic and herbs coming from the dish before the butler could set it on the dinner table.

_ Oh God, I can't do this. _

Clark took in slow deep breaths as Alfred cut and placed the pasta on multiple plates, then started serving each one in front of the patrons at the table. He swallowed thickly when he saw the clear glass cups, knowing he couldn't even spit the food out.

_ Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck- _

He jumped when Alfred placed his food in front of him, an eyebrow arched but otherwise not saying anything.

Clark gave a nervous chuckle, "Thanks Alfred but you know you don't have to do that."

"Nonsense, Master Kent."

"You don't have to call me that either."

"Nonsense." Alfred finished the argument as he moved on.

"You know he's not going to stop. You ask him that every time." Tim laughed.

"Worth a shot," Clark mumbled as he watched everyone dig into their food, forgetting that only him and his mother really bothered with saying a grace or prayer over their meals. Guilt immediately washed over his body at the remembrance of his meals in Smallville. 

Panic was officially setting in, and Clark was desperately trying to control his breathing, even starting to feel lightheaded. He looked down at the plate in front of him, the sight of melted cheese and parsley dripping over the red sauce covered pasta nearly made him gag.

"You okay?" 

Clark jumped again and looked at Bruce sitting closest to him with a skeptical look.

"Yeah! Yeah, I'm totally fine. This is fine. Everything is fine. Everything looks great. This looks great Alfred!" Clark rambled and shouted to the kitchen, making the poor butler almost drop a pitcher of water.

The other occupants of the table were engrossed in their meals, not even noticing their guest was having a breakdown.

"You going to eat Clark?" Bruce asked.

"Yes! Sorry! Yeah, because everything looks really good." 

Clark looked around the table once more and looked at Bruce whose face was back towards his own meal. He took his time unfolding the decorative cloth napkin and leisurely placed it on his lap. He flicked his fingers in an attempt still his shaking hands as he grabbed his knife and fork. Inhaling one more calming breath, Clark started to do what he did best, slicing his meal and talking.

"So Dick, man it feels like forever since we talked, how you been?" Clark asked as he sliced a corner of his lasagna.

"I've been doing great! Well almost great, I've been doing these crazy cases lately." Dick answered around a mouthful of food.

"Tell me all about it." Clark shoved the cut piece in the corner and started to cut off another slice.

"There's new villains popping up from the slums."

Clark brought a piece to his mouth. "From Blůdhaven right?" He held the piece there.

"Yeah, I'm there to stay now." 

Clark put the piece back down, cut it, and pushed in the corner.

"Man that is crazy. What kind of villains?" Clark started cutting the slice again.

For the remainder of dinner Clark addressed almost every person with multiple questions or some kind of conversational topic. The more conservation and talking that carried on, the more he could hitch off pretending to eat. He would slice and cut, pretend to eat, spit some food into his paper napkin, and smear his plate with sauce to add deception of finishing his meal. 

Little did he know, Bruce was watching and taking in his every action. When Alfred came around the table collecting up plates, Clark grabbed his own and stood before the butler could take it.

"I can do this Alfred, at least let me clear my own mess."

"Absolutely will I not have a guest-"

"Come on Alfred, either you let me take the plate or you got to call me Clark. Compromise me with?" He asked and made puppy eyes.

Alfred gave a deep sigh and gestured for him to leave. "If you insist."

Clark grinned then used his speed to grab Damian's and Dick's plate on top his own before the English man could protest. When he rushed back, he gave an apologetic smile; earning him a hearty laugh from Dick.

"Thanks again for inviting me. It was amazing." Clark said as he walked closer to Bruce, stopping only a few feet away.

Bruce's heart fluttered at Clark's genuine smile and looked away before anyone could see the flush climb to his face.

"Come back and eat with us again Clark?" Dick asked, walking up behind them.

"Another one of Alfred's meals? Absolutely!"

Dick gave the hero a one armed hug before turning to help the butler clean the table.

"Are you leaving?" Bruce asked, finally getting his flushed face under control. 

"Yeah, I should head out. I still got my own patrol to do." Clark hesitated for a moment. He wanted to stay with Bruce more than anything, but he needed to take a quick flight around the world to calm his anxiety from the meal.

"See ya Clark!" Tim shouted from the kitchen. 

"Bye Supes."

"Hm." It was the most Damian said, but Clark took it as _ come back whenever. _

Bruce gave him a small nod and watched him vanish but could faintly hear the boom from above the roof.

"Man Clark is awesome-- you ever going to tell him you got the biggest crush- hey where are you going?"

Bruce completely ignored Dick and made his way towards the trash in the kitchen. He bent and started shifting through the disposed garbage, earning confused looks from everyone gathering to observe him.

"Master Bruce?"

The billionaire straightened up and stared into the trash with his fist clenched and his eyes closed to control his anger.

"What's going on?" Tim asked his adoptive father.

Bruce finally turned to look at everyone.

"I suspected Clark had a problem with eating. I didn't want to believe it, but his actions tonight confirmed he has some form of an eating disorder."

There were shocked eyes around the room.

"What? Are you blind? He literally just ate a full damn meal with us." Jason crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe.

"Yeah Bruce, we all watched him eat," Dick added.

"No."

"No, he didn't," Damian said the same time as Bruce.

Everyone looked to the small assassin.

"I watched him. Kent would act like he was eating but the more you talked, the less you noticed. That's why he asked so many questions. Did you actually think he wanted to hear about your lives?"

"Wait no. I actually seen him take a bite," Tim tried to defend.

"The bite is in here." Bruce answered glancing at the trash, "He chewed it then spit it in the damn napkin. The entire meal on his plate is in here, he didn't eat anything."

"What the fuck Clark?" Jason shook his head and walked over to take a look for himself.

"Why would Clark ever-"

"He showed signs of distress the moment he walked in," Damian said as he rolled his eyes. That completely caught Bruce's attention.

"Damian?" 

"He was shaking the entire time Father."

Bruce made sure to keep watch of Clark the entire meal, but he didn't notice his friend acting off any other time before. Bruce never wanted to have suspicions about anything being wrong with Clark. He knew he could be paranoid at times but hearing his youngest son confirm he wasn't the only one to notice made Bruce want to wrap Clark in his arms and rock him until he knew everything would be okay.

_ How can I help you Clark when you won't even talk to me? _

* * *

Clark came to the cave in his regular flannel to find Bruce sitting in front of his large computer. The vigilante's back was turned, but Clark knew Bruce heard him arrive so he took a minute to admire the Bat's hunched frame before making his way over. He admired how Bruce would slightly bite his lip when contemplating, and how fingers would drum beside the keyboard when stuck with a case or evidence he can't move past. Every time the habit occurred, Clark would get the urge to take his drumming hand and interlace their fingers together. There was a lot of things he wanted to do but didn't in fear the vigilante would push him away.

The sound of a throat clearing brought him back to reality. Clark floated over to sit next to him, legs crossed in the air with his hands on his knees.

"Hey Bruce! Whatcha working on?"

"Joker is at it again. I've been trying to see if I can gather where he'll make his next appearance."

"Any luck?"

"Not yet."

"Hmm." Clark nodded his head. 

Bruce pushed a plate of cookies towards him that he hadn't noticed.

"Alfred brought them down. You can have one."

"No thanks."

Clark smiled when Bruce finally turned his head towards him.

"You don't eat."

Clark's entire body froze at that simple sentence.

That one statement that defined his entire life and shattered the walls in his mind.

It felt like his veins were ice at hearing those words plainly spoken, as if he were just mentioning the weather.

"W-what?"

"You don't eat," Bruce said bluntly.

"Umm, yeah I do. I was here yesterday, remember?" Clark adjusted his glasses, a nervous habit Bruce picked up before.

"You didn't eat anything when you were at dinner. I noticed what you were doing. You never eat at the meetings, you never eat when food is put directly into your hand-"

"Bruce, okay. So maybe I'll eat every once in awhile."

"You don't eat at all Clark."

"You know I don't exactly _ need _to, right? I'm usually just not in the mood for it."

"I understand there's no need, but you go to extremes to avoid even putting food in your mouth."

"I do not!"

"You have literally spit food out."

"When have I ever-?!" Clark's voice raised.

"Yesterday."

"I didn't!"

"You throw away food that's put in your hand."

"I haven't… no…"

Clark’s pulse was so loud in his ears that he could hardly hear Bruce over the sound of his own heartbeat. He felt frozen to the spot, caught off guard by the sudden accusations, and even though he knew he was making things worse, he couldn’t stop the word vomit as he tried to counter Bruce’s accusations. 

"You're getting really defensive."

"That's because you're accusing-!"

"You have a problem with food."

"That's it." Clark slammed both his feet on the ground as he stood. "I don't have a problem Bruce. I can't believe- you seen me eat! That's way too critical, even for you. I can eat with no issue, and I'm done with the conversation."

Bruce stood and spoke before Clark could make his way out. "Fine."

"Fine?"

"There's no issue."

Clark threw up his hands. "Thank you!"

Bruce took a step and steadily held his hand out towards Clark. The farm boy looked down to see a single small cookie in his palm.

"There's no issue, so eat." Bruce urged.

"You can't be serious."

"I am. So eat it."

"Can we not do this?"

"Clark."

"What's the point? That's not going to prove anything."

"It's going to prove there is no issue."

"There is none!"

"So then eat it."

"I don't want to."

"Because there's an issue."

"There's not a _ fucking-" _

"Kal."

Clark's jaw snapped shut when his birth name was used, his teeth grinding uncomfortably. He looked into Bruce's hard eyes and lowered his gaze back down to the offensive cookie in his hand. Frustration had him clenching his jaw even tighter, struggling to reach out and grab the mundane little sweet.

Bruce’s voice interrupted his thoughts, and Clark’s eyes darted back up to his face. 

"If it's not a problem, then eat it. Show me there is no problem and eat this. Just take one bite and I will admit there is no issue and I'll never bring this up again."

Clark raised his hand out towards Bruce's outstretched one, his fingers trembling as they grazed against the rough texture of the chocolate chip dessert. 

"Just one bite?"

"Just one."

The small cookie should not look as threatening as it did to the superpowered alien. He left his fingers there, desperately trying to find the willpower to grab it. Just grab the cookie and lift it to his mouth for a bite- even a simple nibble to prove that there is no problem. 

But there was a problem. There was a huge problem.

"I… I can't."

He pushed on Bruce's fingers until they closed around the dessert, ignoring the spark that went through his body at touching the other's skin.

Clark couldn't meet Bruce's eyes.

"I'm so sorry, I just can't."

Guilt and sorrow fully set in, not just for the food but also because someone found out his second biggest secret other than the true nature of his species.

The guilt stung worse for the fact that Bruce—_ the person he happened to be utterly in love with _ _ — _ found out his shameful secret in such a way. 

"I can't do it." 

"Clark…"

"You're right, I don't eat. I hate it, avoid it, and I'm sorry I wasted Alfred's meal I really am… but I just can't."

"Are you not capable?" Bruce asked, lowering the hand still holding the cookie.

"No," Clark chuckled. "I can eat perfectly fine if I want to."

"So why don't you eat?"

Clark had no answer to that question, but at the same time, he had a million answers. He thought of all the times he would lay awake and listen to his parent's growling stomachs while his own was full because they sacrificed another meal for him. He thought of all the convicted criminals in prison who had to eat pure shit everyday despite the fact that half of them didn't warrant such meals. He thought of the orphans and children all over the world who go to bed hungry every night because there's not enough food to go around-- Clark alone able to hear every small growl and gurgle. He thought of the homeless that were grateful for finding a single slice of moldy bread in the garbage they could devour. Clark also thought of their frantically whispered prayers, asking for when and where they'll find their next meal. He thought the people in third world countries where famine was just an everyday normal struggle. He thought of all the people who lost their lives due to starvation, and he thought of those that find comfort in starvation because in the end they just wish they were perfect or dead all because society itself drilled that injustice in them. He thought of those who turn to food and overeating because of depression, anxiety, and the absolute despair they feel everyday but receive no comfort.

But on top of everything, Clark thought of all those people and how they _ need _ to eat and how they _ need _ sustenance, nourishment, food to survive and how he just… didn't.

Finally breaking the tense silence, Clark gave Bruce the most honest answer for the reason why he started his destructive behavior.

"Because I don't deserve to."

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and reviews are always appreciated.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and reviews are openly appreciated and if anyone is dealing with anything like this or is just haunted by anything crippling, I am absolutely always open to talk and be there.
> 
> Eating Help Hotline: 1-800-931-2237  
Website: https://www.nationaleatingdisorders.org


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